


You Know Nothing, Jon Snow

by Tigereye77



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Jon still knows nothing, Stupid decisions, screwed up relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 11:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11401788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigereye77/pseuds/Tigereye77
Summary: Jon realizes he's made a grave mistake





	You Know Nothing, Jon Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This story is written in response to those who think Jon will just be so in love and overwhelmed by Daenerys that he will leave Sansa brokenhearted and have a great life ruling. Yeah, I don't think so.

The invitation is a surprise on many levels; one that she was getting married and two that she had invited him to the wedding. However, it isn’t a surprise, for who would not want to marry the beautiful Queen of the North who saw her people through the long night and has brought them back from the brink of extinction to prosperity now that the winter snows have melted away. And protocol dictated that she invite her cousin, the King of the South, to her wedding.

But the invitation was followed by a letter, this time from the woman he still considered his sister and it contained a simple message.

_Do not come if you intend to make trouble for Sansa. You’ve broken her heart once. I will not let you do so again._

His fist crumpled the wedding invitation and he felt old wounds reopen at Arya’s words. Jon had half a mind to not go to the wedding, but he had to. As King of the South his presence was required, but he was not sure how he could bear to see the woman he loved married to another.

So he gathered the overly large retinue that for some reason a king must always travel with and made the journey North. The people bowed to him respectfully, but without love. There was no hatred there either. That was reserved for his late wife, Daenerys, who after a year on the throne showed that she did not escape the Targaryen curse of madness. Now the people in the South waited. Waited and watched to see if he too would show the illness that plagued his family. In the meantime, the South accepted that his rule was better than that of his wife who before she accidentally fell from her balcony on a windy day, made it a sport of burning small folk and nobles alike.

As Jon traveled further North, excitement and dread filled him. The weight of the South and the throne he never wanted seemed to slip away as he encountered the cooler temperatures, the foliage and fauna he grew up with and the accent and attitudes of the people he loved best. But he was also dreading his reception at Winterfell.

After the war, he had believed himself to be completely in love with the beautiful dragon queen. She had lost all of her dragons in the Great War and had asked Jon to help her take the Throne in the South. Sansa had asked him not to go, reminding him of his promise to help her rebuild Winterfell and of something else.

_“You said you loved me,” she had murmured quietly. “You were all that father promised me, someone brave, gentle and strong. Why, Jon? Why?”_

_A pang went through Jon. He had never fully figured out his feelings for Sansa and then he had met Daenerys, so vivid and beautiful, so overwhelming, that he had pushed aside those confusing emotions for another. “I do. I always will. But not like that.” He had kissed Sansa’s forehead. “I love, Dany.” He truly believed that at the time, caught up in the majesty that was the Mother of Dragons, but only looking at the surface and not what was truly beneath the intoxicating veneer of her blonde hair and power over dragons._

_Sansa had stiffened in his arms and nodded curtly. “Then I wish you safe travels and success, Jon Snow.”_

Those were the last words she had ever spoken to him. But Sansa was not the only Stark who felt betrayed.

_Arya glared at him. “So, you’re abandoning your family in favor of her?”_

_“Dany is my family as well. I’m a Targaryen.”_

_“You’re a Stark,” Arya had spat. “Or least you were until something you thought was better came along.”_

_“Arya-“_

_“Don’t speak to me! You’re no brother to me!”_

Jon had much time to think over his actions in the four years he had been in the South and away from Winterfell. After the war, the South was in disarray, the years of Baratheon and Lannister rule as devastating the war with the Night King had been on the North. It was with ease that Jon and Dany had taken the Iron Throne, but as they soon found out, it’s easy to conquer a broken and bleeding land, but much harder to stitch it back together. Tyrion and Varys perished in the Great War, and while Davos tried his best, they found themselves ill-equipped to rule. Jon wanted no part in ruling so left many matters to Daenerys which in hindsight proved to be a grave error.

The events across the sea in Meeren should have been a lesson. Daenerys, without any experienced advisors, struggled daily to rule a land she was not familiar with. Coupled with the feeling from the South that she was a foreigner who had no right to the throne, dissent occurred almost immediately. Without her dragons to enforce her rule, she relied on the brutality of her forces to keep order. And they were brutal. While the Unsullied could be counted on for their discipline, the Dorothki were another matter, and Jon found himself horrified by the rampages they would unleash on the lands. Without her dragons to cow them, Daenerys struggled to keep them in check, but found she could accept their actions if they limited their rampages to the ones who opposed her. Jon and Davos had tried to be a tempering force, but soon realized she was slowly slipping into a madness and cruelty.

But there were times that Jon glimpsed the woman he thought he had fallen in love with, the silver-haired beauty who warmed his bed. Then the children came. Misshapen and deformed, living only a few painful hours before the Stranger took them. Rumors spread the Mother of Dragons had become the Mother of Monsters.

In their third year together, one windy night, she stood on her bedroom balcony. No one heard anything or saw anything, but the next morning, her broken body was found on the rocks below. Some believe she thought she was going for a ride on her dragon. Others thought King Jon had pushed her or an assassin hired by some of the wealthier families. The more charitable few had called it an accident. Few mourned her death.

Jon found himself then sitting on a throne he never wanted. He had his struggles too, but as the hero of the Great War, raised in Westeros by Ned Stark, a man who’s good reputation had been restored to an even more vaulted status, and cousin to the Queen of the North who had become an admired and beloved figure even beyond her own lands, the South was willing to give him a chance.

He wasn’t a great ruler, but he was fair and for now, the South was stable, but it was nowhere near the prosperity it once had and strangely, was being quickly out-paced by developments in the North. Sansa had learned her lessons well, and paid for them dearly, in her time with the Lannisters and Littlefinger. She had turned into a great ruler and a savvy businesswoman, setting up profitable relations with lands that reached beyond Westeros and ensuring her people were fed and secure. The North was flourishing.

It was after the first year of Jon’s reign that Davos approached him about marrying again. A king needed a queen and more importantly, heirs. Jon had neither. The most logical and appealing choice would be the Queen of the North.

“I remember you had a certain affection for you cousin, Your Grace,” Davos had mumbled in embarrassment. “And more importantly, the South now needs the North. We need their strength to help us in our recovery.”

Jon’s heart leapt at the idea. He knew he had made a mistake following and marrying Daenerys. Deep down, it was Sansa he should have married and now he had the chance. For his heart and politically, it was the perfect solution.

Except two days letter, a marriage invitation came by raven and all of Jon’s hopes were dashed.

But perhaps they weren’t, Jon mused as the gates to Winterfell slowly opened for him. This was obviously a political match for Sansa, something she had to do but likely did not want. Maybe he could still stop this wedding. She couldn’t be in love with this other man. There was still a chance that he could marry Sansa and they would be together.

All hopes died when he met Sansa’s betrothed, a second son of a minor Northern house. He was tall and broad of shoulder with light brown hair, a trim beard and kind eyes. This was no political match. Aside from a consort, Sansa had nothing to gain by marrying this man.

Except love.

Jon saw it clearly in how she looked at her betrothed, Ser Malcom of Galeswood. Her eyes shone, her face gentled, and a becoming blush tinted her cheeks. So different from the polite, cool gaze she favored Jon with.

Ser Malcolm was clearly besotted with Sansa. He gazed adoringly at her and spoke to her with a gentle voice.

If his eyes did not tell him the truth, Arya did.

“They’re completely in love and Sansa is finally happy,” Arya warned him. “You had your chance, Jon and you threw it away. Don’t try to ruin this for her. He’s a good man. She’s finally found someone worthy of her. Some brave, gentle and strong. Let her have this.”

A pang went through Jon at his sister’s words. He was supposed to be that person, but he had not been. Instead he chased a glimmering dream that quickly turned into dust and all he was left with was a crown he never wanted and a lonely life.

Jon could have said something and almost did several times. Especially when he would catch Sansa alone, looking more beautiful than she ever had. His mouth would open, a hand reach out to touch her, but then she would catch sight of him and her lovely blue eyes would turn to ice and she would inquire whether he needed something.

The day of the wedding came and it was Bran and Arya who escorted their sister to Ser Malcolm. Jon did not even have a place by their side, instead regulated to a place of honor only for his position as King of the South. He nearly wept when he saw Sansa, a lovely weirwood tree come to life with her red hair and the grey Stark dress embroidered all over with silver threads.

The wedding feast was a boisterous and happy affair, but Jon simply brooded into his cups. While he had, again, a place of honor at the head table, he could not help feel as he did when he was the bastard of Winterfell, looking from the outside in on the happiness that surrounded the Starks and the latest addition to their family. That should be him in Ser Malcom’s chair, next to Sansa, holding her hand and brushing a kiss against her soft cheek. But it was not and all he had to warm him was his cup of Dornish wine.

Protocol dictated that the bride dance at least once with the King of the South. Jon eagerly anticipated the opportunity to hold Sansa in his arms. As one wrapped around her slim waist and his other hand engulfed her small one, Jon felt a moment of utter contentment and peace settle upon his soul. He inhaled her sweet scent of lemon and roses and allowed the strands of her silky hair to tickle his cheek. This was how it was supposed to be, he and Sansa together, in his arms forever.

“I have to thank you, Your Grace,” he heard her say.

“Please, Sansa, it’s Jon. It’s always Jon for you,” he murmured, still enjoying the illusion she was his, if even for a moment.

“Jon. I do want to thank you. You were right.”

Jon pulled back slightly and frowned at her in confusion. “Right? Right about what?”

Sansa quirked her lips at him, the first hint of a smile since he arrived at Winterfell. “About us. You were right to go South with Daenerys. I thought there was something between us. That maybe we were fated to be together. But I know better now.” She looked over at her husband and smiled happily at him. “I understand you only loved me as your kin. Not how I wanted you to. I realize that now that I’ve found true love."  
Jon felt his heart shatter in two. He now understood what Sansa must have felt when he had said similar words to her four years ago when he declared his love for Daenerys. 

Sansa sighed and turned back to Jon, her face solemn. “Thank you, Jon, thank you for being the level-headed one. I think, I think I can finally be happy.” She gave him a small smile and then leaned forward to kiss him chastely on his cheek.

Jon stood mutely as the song ended. When she tugged on his arm slightly, he started and escorted her back to her groom before he mumbled some excuses and left the Great Hall. He strode outside to breathe in the cold, Northern night air, not realizing tears had begun to leak from his eyes.

_Too late. Too foolish. I’ve lost her and I have no one to blame but myself, he chastised himself silently._

In the cold night air, he heard a voice from the past.

_You know nothing, Jon Snow._

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Meh, maybe there'll be other parts. Haven't decided.


End file.
